Part 81 (1/2)
Mavis promised that she would.
”How long have you been married?”
”Not long. Three months.”
”Any baby?”
”After three months!” blushed Mavis.
”Working so at 'Poulter's' makes one forget them things. No offence,”
apologised Miss Nippett.
”Good-bye. I'll look in again soon.”
”If you 'ave any babies, see they're taught dancing at 'Poulter's.'”
Between Notting Hill and Wormwood Scrubbs lies a vast desert of human dwellings. Fringing Notting Hill they are inhabited by lower middle-cla.s.s folk, but, by scarcely perceptible degrees, there is a declension of so-called respectability, till at last the frankly working-cla.s.s district of Latimer Road is reached. Baynham Street was one of the ill-conditioned, down-at-heel little roads which tenaciously fought an uphill fight with encroaching working-cla.s.s thoroughfares.
Its inhabitants referred with pride to the fact that Baynham Street overlooked a railway, which view could be obtained by craning the neck out of window at risk of dislocation. A brawny man was standing before the open door of No. 11 as Mavis walked up the steps.
”Is Bill coming?” asked the man, as he furtively lifted his hat.
Mavis looked surprised.
”To chuck out this 'ere lodger for Mrs. Scatchard wo' won't pay up,” he explained.
”I know nothing about it,” said Mavis.
”Ain't you Mrs Dancer, Bill's new second wife?”
Mavis explained that she had come to see Miss Meakin, at which the man walked into the pa.s.sage and knocked at the first door on the left, as he called out:
”Lady to see you!”
”Who?” asked Miss Meakin, as she displayed a fraction of a scantily attired person through the barely opened door.
”Have you forgotten me?” asked Mavis, as she entered the pa.s.sage.
”Dear Miss Keeves! So good of you to call!” cried Miss Meakin, not a little affectedly, so Mavis thought, as she raised her hand high above her head to shake hands with her friend in a manner that was once considered fas.h.i.+onable in exclusive Bayswater circles.
She then opened the door wide enough for Mavis to edge her way in.
Mavis found herself in an apartment that was normally a pretentiously furnished drawing-room. Just now, a lately vacated bed was made up on the sofa; a recently used was.h.i.+ng basin stood on a chair; whilst Miss Meakin's una.s.sumed garments strewed the floor.
”And what's happened to you all this long time?” asked Miss Meakin, as she sat on the edge of a chair in the manner of one receiving a formal call.
”To begin with, I'm married,” said Mavis hurriedly, at which piece of information her friend's face fell.
”Any family?” she asked anxiously.